Rewards
by Chirugal
Summary: Abby decides that Caf-Pow! isn't enough... Gibbs/Abby, second chapter added, complete.
1. Rewards

**Title**: Rewards  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: None  
**Summary**: Abby decides Caf-Pow! isn't enough…

**Author's Note**: Concept from a prompt given to me by my lovely friend Cassy – you rock!

* * *

He walks into her lab, stopping short in the doorway as he takes in the scene before him. Her music is turned up to an obnoxious level, some sort of heavy guitar riff mixed with intermittent blips and bleeps. She moves between her mass spectrometer, electron microscope, centrifuge and workbench, working with rhythmic efficiency, her hips swaying to the beat.

She has no idea that he's there. He briefly wonders if he should keep it that way for a while, then decides against it.

"Abby!" he shouts over the noise, touching her arm when she shows no sign that she's heard him. She whirls, wide-eyed, barely keeping hold of the test tube she's carrying. Her shock turns to recognition, and she gives her trademark grin.

"Gibbs! Isn't this awesome?"

He has no idea what she's talking about. Rather than shout over the music, he signs it to her.

Taking her cue from him, she switches to sign language, carefully depositing the test tube back in its rack. _It's the new Plastic Death CD! I've been waiting for this for eight months, and it was so worth it!_

He laughs at her enthusiasm, and her eyes brighten as she realises she's amused him. Out of consideration for his ears, she grabs her remote and turns down the volume. "So, the DNA result," she tells him, switching to professionalism without having to be prompted. "It was a match. Tina Marshall _definitely _killed Petty Officer Johnson."

DiNozzo and McGee are already on their way over there. He calls Tony, passing on the information and hanging up without bothering with idle chit-chat. "That's a good job, Abby," he tells her, depositing a huge cup of Caf-Pow! onto the table next to her, then turning to leave.

"C'mon, Gibbs, is that all I get?" she asks, her voice playful. When he looks at her, only the barest edge of nervous anticipation can be seen in her otherwise teasing expression.

He already knows where this is heading, having had all the same thoughts a thousand times over. "I brought you Caf-Pow!," he tries, keeping his face impassive as his eyes sweep over her expectant posture.

She sighs, rolling her eyes good-naturedly. "Caf-Pow! is for results that I'm working on, Gibbs."

"I take you out to dinner sometimes," he reminds her, already knowing it's not going to placate her. Hoping his intrigue doesn't show in his face; pretty sure it does.

She takes a small step forward. "Okay, that's a start, but it's not what I meant."

He stares her out, hoping she'll back down. It's not that he doesn't want her; it's that he can't bear to ruin what they have. Every relationship he's ever had has ended badly. The thought of hurting her destroys him.

She doesn't take the hint. "See, I was thinking there should be a sliding scale here. Why should the reward for finding an incriminating fibre, which can take less than an hour, be the same as a DNA match, which can take whole _days_?"

"Abby…" he growls, warning her to change the subject, fast. A tiny shiver thrills through her, almost imperceptible, and he realises that hearing him say her name is a major turn-on for her. He wishes he could take it back, almost as much as he wants to say it again.

"So maybe if we say a kiss on the cheek for a fibre-find, a peck on the lips for a positive ballistics result, a proper kiss – with tongue – for fingerprint matches, and a minimum of five minutes making out for a DNA match?" Her voice is casual, her light tone never slipping. If he didn't have fifteen years' investigative experience behind him, he'd have mistaken it for a joke.

"You don't wanna go there, Abbs," he replies, torn between amusement and frustration.

She sighs melodramatically, shrugging and smiling, and turns back to her test tubes. He leans in close and brushes his lips over the soft flesh of her cheek. The scent of her gunpowder perfume fills his nostrils; he draws away before he can think too much about it, and heads for the door. Just as he's about to step into the corridor, she calls after him.

"Okay, but I'm keeping track of how much you owe me, and pretty soon it's gonna amount to so much that you're gonna have to sleep with me…"

Her eyes are mischievous, and he can't help but laugh, relieved that she doesn't seem to be hurt by his brush-off. He takes a breath to speak, but she cranks up the volume of her music again, cutting him off with a little wave. Leaving her to it, he crosses the hall to the elevator, wondering just how long it will take before she'll bring up the subject again, and whether he'll have the willpower to resist her.


	2. Debt Collection

**Author's Note**: Uh-huh... this was complete. And now it is again. But I got the idea for a second chapter today, and here we are. XD I don't think there'll be a chapter three though.

* * *

She reaches for the phone, and he covers her hand with his, preventing her from lifting the receiver. He feels her body jerk as she startles, looking up into his face. Recognition dawns, and she gives a little excited bounce. "Gibbs! How did you know I was just gonna call you?"

He hands her a Caf-Pow!, and she takes a quick sip before setting down the drink. "You got a match?" he asks.

"I did! And you somehow knew before I did! You're gonna have to tell me how you do it, Gibbs."

He shakes his head, waiting for her to get to the point. She knows he doesn't have time for her supernatural theories, and moves on. "So, you were right. Commander Bailey's DNA is all over our crime scene. There's no _way_ he's innocent."

He already has the Commander waiting in interrogation – he can stew for a few more minutes. "Good work, Abby." Her cheek is smooth under his lips, her smile mischievous as she looks into his eyes. And she starts counting on her fingers.

"Okay, so that's eight positive DNA matches this month. Sorry to break this to you, Gibbs, but you're gonna have to spend the weekend in bed with me."

He knows immediately that she's referring to the hypothetical reward system she devised a couple months ago. Images assault his mind – leaving work on Friday, driving to Abby's place, undressing her slowly, revealing her tattoos one by one…

He waits a split-second too long to begin to respond, and she takes a step closer, asking softly, "How about it?"

All the teasing has gone from her expression; only expectation and desire remain. It's not the first time she's looked at him this way, but the other times were all when she thought he hadn't noticed.

"No, Abbs," he tells her, dropping a brief kiss on her forehead to lessen the blow of his refusal.

She rolls her eyes, smiling up at him. "I know you want me just as much as I want you, Gibbs. And I'm not the delicate flower you think I am." Plucking a black rose out of the bouquet on her desk, she holds it out to him. "See? I have thorns."

"So do I," he reminds her. "And mine are sharper than yours."

"McGee doesn't think so," she points out, carefully slotting the flower back into place. "People hurt each other all the time. It's a part of life. But before they hurt each other, they can give so much pleasure…"

But the pain always wins out, and his will is strong enough that he remembers that. "Answer's still no." She sighs regretfully, nodding.

"You're building up a hell of a debt, here…" Her teasing tone is back. "And I can't afford to settle your tab for you."

"Don't expect you to, Abbs. I always repay my debts sooner or later." He heads for the door, wondering what's possessed him to throw that tiny spark of hope out toward her.

But he's burned enough bridges. There are certain routes he can't bear to see closed.

* * *

She leaves the subject alone for a few months, until he almost believes she's dropped it altogether. The thought both relieves and disappoints him. His feelings for Abby have always been so conflicted that he's given up on trying to make sense of them.

He walks into her lab one Friday afternoon to find her frowning into her electron microscope. "With you in a second, Gibbs," she tells him before he can speak, holding up a hand.

He watches her as she works, her brow furrowing as she adjusts the focus, her slim fingers grasping a pen and making a few notations on a pad beside her. The golden afternoon sunlight slants through the windows, lending her black locks a glossy sheen. It's always fascinated him how something so dark can look so radiant.

Nodding to herself, she sets down the pen and turns to smile at him. "Sorry. I'm looking at a cold case for Dan Harris, and the original forensics were way, way off kilter. I just don't get how the Metro forensics department can work that way – they have no system, no organisational skills-"

"Abby." There's no force behind the word – it's just a gentle reminder.

"Right, the case." With a few deft commands on her keyboard, she brings up a flashing fingerprint match. "As always, your hunch was totally on the money. This fingerprint was lifted from one of the glasses on the bar, and it places Stephan La Croix at the scene."

She looks so overjoyed that his theory panned out that he can't resist kissing her cheek. "Thanks, Abbs."

Maybe his lips linger for a second too long, because she cocks her head to one side, eyes searching his. "You know, if I add that to your tab you're gonna have to ask me to marry you," she says, the barest hint of a challenge in her voice. "And that'd involve a ring, champagne, tickets to an Android Lust concert… more trouble than it's worth, I'd say."

Hearing her refer to her rewards system after so many months makes him inexplicably cheerful. "Yeah?" he says, playing along without bothering to debate whether or not he should. "You got a better alternative?"

Her smile blossoming into a full-fledged grin as she realises he's not dismissing her outright, she shrugs, feigning nonchalance. "Well, the agreed rate for a fingerprint match was a kiss, right? I could collect that now, and that'd keep your debt from accumulating any further today…"

For a long moment he doesn't respond, watching her face. Memorising her stance, the slight upward quirk of her eyebrows, the smile hovering at the corners of her lips... Taking his silence as a refusal, she shrugs, turning back to her computer and closing down the result window. "Okay, but don't say I didn't-"

At the touch of his hands on her shoulders, the words die on her lips. Her eyes meet his, and she can't quite hide the hope in them.

He's held out for as long as he can, but he's only human, and she looks so good today that it'd take a will far stronger than his to resist her. He brings his lips down on hers, and her body gives the barest of trembles as she presses against him, fingers pulling through his hair. He deepens the kiss, losing his senses in the way she tastes, the faintly explosive scent of her, her body moulded against his as if she can't bear to let go. He holds her tightly, drowning in the sensory overload, not realising when one kiss stretches into two, and two into three. It's only when she gasps into his mouth that he remembers the need for oxygen and draws away.

"Gibbs…" she whispers, a lazy smile creeping over her features.

When she opens her eyes and he registers the emotion within them, his self-control skitters out of his grasp again. She's always gazed at him with love, and that's still evident, but right now it's overpowered by a driving hunger, and the beast within him responds to it immediately. Hardly giving them time to catch their breath, he pulls her into another kiss, this one fiery, ravenous. She matches his fervour with her own, crying out as his thigh slips between her legs and grinding herself against it.

It's then that he comes to his senses. He wants to take her right here, but he can't. Reluctantly he ends the kiss, pulling her into a hug instead. "Worked off any of that debt yet?" he murmurs into her hair.

Her breath against the side of his neck is shaky. "Maybe a little of the interest on this week's work…"

He laughs, beginning to pull himself under control. "Oh, so there's interest now? You drive a hard bargain. How long d'you think it'll take me to clear the tab?"

She draws back to beam up at him. "Well, I do have several payment schemes on offer, but it's really down to personal preference. You can pay in monthly, fortnightly, weekly or daily instalments. The more frequently you pay, the quicker you pay off your tab, but you also have to consider that every time you bring me work you're racking up more debt. And you do bring me a lot of work, Gibbs."

"Monthly, fortnightly, weekly or daily, huh?" She nods, and he can't resist. "How about hourly?"

Biting her lip, she closes her eyes. "I could be persuaded that that'd be a good option..."

"Or per minute? We'd have to take a few days off work, of course…"

"Might be the most efficient method," she agrees, leaning into him, so close he can feel each word as she breathes it out.

"How about constantly?"

His words push her willpower past its limit, and she kisses him again, fast and hard, pushing away before he can touch her and taking several steps out of his reach. "Go bring me some more evidence, or I'll end up doing something that'll clear the whole debt."

She has a point. "I'll pick you up when I leave for the night," he says, taking one final look at her, drinking in her lust-darkened eyes and pouting lips.

As he turns away, a bleep from her computer catches their attention. Another fingerprint match blinks up on-screen, and Abby grins. "Would you look at that? Another match! Ethan Tanner was at the bar, too! Now, what do your investigative skills say to that, Gibbs?"

"That I'm gonna have even more repayments to make up once I get you home," he tells her, shaking his head good-naturedly and heading for the door.

"I was thinking along the lines of 'La Croix had an accomplice', but I like your version better!" she calls after him as the elevator doors slide shut.


End file.
